The Crossroad

Right and left talk to me
with words of slime and silk
and I'm damned if I know
which one I should follow.

Where I came from twisted,
only meandered round
the wreckage, the rubble,
ignored all the trouble.

Now that there's this, a choice,
staring coldly like ice,
freezing false assurance
that had warmed my conscience.

Right or left, this or that,
what I should or my want?
The crossroad can't caution,
just presents the options.